Freefall
by sydney453
Summary: Sark knows that it could never be.


Title: Freefall  
  
Author: Sarah  
  
Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, I do not own Sark. Or anything else Alias related for that matter. So don't sue me, okay?  
  
Feedback: Makes the world go round.  
  
Summary: Complete and total Sark related fluff.  
  
AN: No spoilers, nothing episode related, just a stand alone little piece that I've been working on for a while.  
  
Freefall Sark caught the scent of her perfume before he saw her. He inhaled slightly, recognizing the perfume's top note of French lime blossom. The scent pleased him, stirring up memories of a childhood long abandoned. She took her seat next to him with a sigh, dropping her heavy carry-on bag to the floor with a dull thump. Sark took stock of her slowly, glancing downwards first and then sweeping his eyes upward. He was impressed with what he saw. Most of the women on this flight were clad in sloppy jeans and baggy t-shirts; not this woman though, she was carefully dressed. As his eyes made their way upward he took in her appearance; black leather stiletto boots, impeccably tailored navy blue pinstriped pants, and a cream colored cashmere sweater. Subconsciously hoping that her face was as beautiful as her clothing, Sark looked up into the face of his seatmate. He studied her surreptitiously. Flawless fair skin with a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, full red lips, high cheekbones, and eyes such a dark shade of blue they reminded Sark of the Mediterranean Sea at dusk, with a fringe of thick black lashes making them even more prominent. The only quirk in her facial features was a slight bump halfway down her nose that Sark decided was endearing.  
  
She pushed a lock of long auburn hair away from her shoulder and turned her gaze from the itinerary that she had been studying to Sark himself, who blushed slightly at being caught staring.  
  
"See anything interesting?" she asked, causing Sark to blush even deeper and silently berate himself for allowing a complete stranger to fluster him so.  
  
"My apologies." Sark began but was cut off when the woman chuckled slightly and flashed a dimpled smile at him.  
  
She said, "There's nothing you have to apologize for. You were just about to introduce yourself to your seatmate, am I right?"  
  
Sark flashed a grateful smile at her, glad she hadn't decided that he was a pervert and hauled off and slapped him. "You're quite right, I was going to do just that," Sark replied as he held his hand out for her to shake. "Gabriel Sark. It's a pleasure to meet you."  
  
She smiled brightly at him and took his hand. "Victoria Logan. It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I can't tell you how refreshing it is to be sitting next to someone who isn't." Victoria paused as she searched for the right word.  
  
"Surly?" Sark supplied.  
  
She flashed her dimple at him again. "Exactly!"  
  
They sat together in a companionable silence for a few minutes, each taking in the semi-controlled chaos going on around them. Sark and Victoria seemed to be the only two calm people on the entire flight. All around them people were jostling into each other in an attempt to find their seats quickly. A mother attempted to console a sobbing newborn while her toddler bounced up and down on a seat. People endeavored to stow their baggage in the overhead compartments without getting into anyone's way, but failed miserably.  
  
Sark decided to break their silence. "Is this your first trip to London?"  
  
Victoria turned to face him, shaking her head as she did so. "I spent a small part of my childhood there." Sark nodded expectantly, urging Victoria to elaborate.  
  
She continued, "My father owns a small auction house in London. It's a division of a larger house in New York. We've decided to sell this branch of the company to Sotheby's, so I'll be staying in London for a few months to see that the transition goes smoothly."   
  
Sark was surprised that such a young woman was given such a huge responsibility. She looked to be barely into her twenties, and yet she was overseeing the transfer her family's business to a well-respected company. Sark was impressed.  
  
Victoria watched Sark's reaction with a trace of amusement on her face. "I get that look a lot."  
  
Sark laughed. "I'm just impressed that someone so young has so much responsibility."  
  
Victoria shrugged. "I am young, twenty-four. I graduated from high school and college a few years ahead of my peers. But I'm used to the responsibility. it comes with the territory."  
  
She was far more interested in Sark's life story than her own. "So Gabriel, what do you do?" she asked.  
  
Sark cast his eyes downward for a split second, deciding which occupation he'd like to have this week. "I work in advertising," he responded. "I'm not part of a company though. I like to be able to move around on a moments notice, I just do contract work."  
  
Victoria nodded. "It must be nice to be able to just move whenever you feel like it. I sometimes feel the need to do that myself, just leave it all behind. Every once in a while the daily grind becomes so stifling that I think about packing up and moving to Greenland." Victoria trailed off into silence and glanced down at her hands for a second before turning back to Sark.  
  
He smiled at her, "Ah, you wouldn't like Greenland. The winters are just awful."  
  
"But I've heard the summers are spectacular," Victoria responded, matching his smile with one of her own.  
  
"You have a point there," Sark conceded.  
  
"So, do you spend a lot of time in London?" Victoria questioned.  
  
Sark shook his head. "A week here and there, but nothing more than that. I spend most of my time in Ireland."  
  
Victoria nodded, realizing that the lilt to his accent wasn't British, as she had suspected, but Irish. "Dublin? Galway?" she asked.  
  
Sark raised his eyebrows in surprise. Not many people were able to pick out the exact region that his accent was from. "You were right the second time. Galway."  
  
Victoria nodded and smiled. "I've been there a few times. It's such a beautiful region."  
  
They smiled at each other. Sark was wary of the way her smile made his heart beat a little faster every time he saw it.  
  
They glanced away from each other when a voice over the intercom announced that the passengers were to prepare for takeoff. Victoria and Sark's fingers brushed against each other as they both fumbled for their seatbelts. Sark felt a little tingle run up his arm when his hand brushed hers and he knew Victoria had felt the same way because he saw that her cheeks looked a little bit redder than they had a few seconds before. "This is not good," Sark thought to himself. He couldn't allow himself to get involved with a woman, not now anyway. Every relationship that he had been in had been a disaster from the start because of his occupation. Sark shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. What was he thinking? He'd just met her ten minutes ago. He held back a chuckle over the fact that the word relationship had popped into his head so quickly.  
  
Victoria pretended to be staring out the window watching the plane take off when in reality she was studying the man next to her. He wasn't her usual type. She typically dated the more athletic type, stupid pretty boys who looked good on her arm at a gallery opening. Of course she really couldn't have a conversation with people like that, but intelligent conversation wasn't the motivating factor in her decision to date them anyway. Gabriel seemed like someone with slightly more brains. She'd gotten through a conversation with him without rolling her eyes once. Victoria considered that to be a step in the right direction. "He's still very attractive of course," Victoria thought as she studied him. Slightly wavy blond hair, skin almost as fair as hers, and light blue eyes that held something Victoria couldn't put her finger on. Was it just because he was more intelligent than the men she was used to or did he have secrets that he never told to anyone? Victoria was dying to know the reason behind that spark in his eyes.  
  
Victoria took in Sark's Hugo Boss suit with admiration. Too many men her age thought that a t-shirt and jeans two sizes too big were acceptable attire. Victoria appreciated a man who knew how to dress and Sark obviously knew how to do just that. The shades of blue of his navy suit and the lighter blue of his tie were obviously chosen with care so as to bring out the blue in his eyes. Victoria had always been intrigued by men that knew how to dress well. "Makes me wonder what else he's good at," she thought, but quickly scolded herself for thinking of such things. "But he sure looks good in that suit." Victoria sighed inwardly, embarrassed at herself for thinking things like this about a complete stranger. "Mother would have a fit if she knew what I was thinking." Victoria smirked at that, wondering what her mother would say if she told her that she had felt more of a connection in ten minutes with Sark than in her entire two year long relationship with her ex-fiancé.  
  
She felt someone nudge her shoulder and heard Sark ask, "See anything interesting?"  
  
Victoria felt her cheeks grow hot as she looked into Sark's eyes with an embarrassed grin on her face. "Well I was watching this uh, movie, I think, the other day, the one about the airplane that had that. creature sitting on the wing. So I was just checking. Uh, ha ha." Victoria shut up when she realized that she must now sound like a babbling lunatic to Sark.  
  
He was grinning at her, looking somewhat confused. "Movie with the creature on the wing, huh? I'm not familiar with it."  
  
Victoria shrugged her shoulders and wondered if her face could turn any more red than it already was. "Oh, you know," she said, waving her hand around in an attempt to look casual. "It had that guy from Star Trek in it. The one who did those obnoxious commercials for some internet site a few years ago."  
  
Recognition dawned on Sark's face. "Oh, right! Now I know what you're talking about." He grinned at her. "I thought it was an episode of the Twilight Zone though."  
  
Victoria shrugged. "You're probably right."  
  
Sark watched as Victoria wrinkled up her nose slightly, causing two more little dimples to appear higher up on her cheeks, which in turn caused Sark to want to. "Don't think about that," Sark thought, shaking his head slightly. He snapped back to reality when he realized that Victoria was speaking.  
  
"I know I sound like an escaped mental patient, but I'm really not," she said as she brushed a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. "Flying just makes me nervous," she added, hoping that she sounded convincing.  
  
Victoria dropped her arm back down to the armrest and felt her hand brush against Sark's again. They both jumped slightly as they felt a wave of heat rush up their arms. Sark watched her for a few seconds. He was experienced enough in the ways of human behavior to know that he was making her nervous, but not the type of nervous that he was used to seeing in people. Sark had grown accustomed to seeing people cowering in fear as he raised a pistol to their temple. Victoria's reaction was different, she kept fidgeting and every time they brushed up against one another she jumped as if someone had jabbed her with a hot poker. Then again, so did he.  
  
"I used to dislike flying too, but my job has necessitated I get used to it." Sark said. "It's just become another routine part of the job." He nodded decisively, as if to convince himself. "Sure," he thought somewhat guiltily. "Really routine. Fly to god-only-knows-where, pop in for a visit with the boss, murder a British Intelligence agent, have a scone."  
  
Sark agitatedly ran a hand through his hair as he tried to clear his mind. As he turned towards Victoria, Sark felt that all too uncomfortable stirring in his chest. This was really getting to be too much. It was obvious that this woman was somewhat unhinged and yet everything she did felt sweet and uncontrived to Sark. He wasn't used to this. Not only did he genuinely enjoy her company, but she had also managed to make him feel guilty. And Sark didn't like to feel guilty.  
  
Sark didn't like being around uncomplicated and happy people. He was used to poisonous tempers and unstable personalities. That he could handle. This was different. He would normally try to get as far away from people like Victoria. But she made him want to stay, and that disturbed him greatly. He'd never wanted to stay anywhere before.  
  
They spent the rest of the flight in a compatible silence, occasionally discussing whatever offhand thing popped into one of their heads; music, their favorite authors, the places on earth they loved the most. Sark felt the end of their journey approaching and tensed a bit. What would he do now? He couldn't just ask her to tag along while he poisoned a member of the government, could he? He could just picture it; "Wait here for two minutes Victoria. I just need to kill someone and then I'll be right with you." Victoria seemed like a nice person, maybe she would like to help. Sark smirked to himself at that.  
  
"Something funny?" Victoria asked, glancing over at Sark.  
  
"Funny? No. Why do you ask?" he quickly responded, hoping Victoria hadn't noticed any strange behavior.  
  
She tilted her head to the side (adorably, Sark decided), "Well, usually when people chuckle it's because something is funny."  
  
Sark raised his eyebrows at Victoria and mentally reprimanded himself, "Oh, I was just thinking about my plans for this trip. I'm seeing an old friend." Damn it, that wasn't too smooth. "You're considered one of the most dangerous men on the planet," he thought to himself. "Don't let an attractive woman slip you up!"  
  
Victoria was about to respond when the announcement that their plane would be landing shortly was made. She smiled at Sark, "All good things must come to an end." Their eyes met and Sark felt his pulse speed up a bit.  
  
"How about we ask the pilot to turn this plane around? You can tell me why you love Dorothy Parker so much and I'll tell you all about my fondness for Fitzgerald." Sark smiled at Victoria, hoping he hadn't sounded as pathetic as he felt. He wondered how Victoria would feel if he told her he really was contemplating marching up to the cockpit and demanding the pilot turn around, just so he could spend more time with her.  
  
He didn't want the flight to end. When it was over the real world would come rushing back to him and there was nothing Sark wanted less then for that to happen.  
  
"As much as I'd love for that to happen, I don't think that the rest of the passengers would feel the same way," she laughed. Victoria would give anything for this flight to go on forever. It wasn't every day that she met someone that she felt so right with.  
  
Sark sighed, "I suppose you're right. Well then, we'll just let them go and fly back to New York on our own. Or maybe Greenland?"  
  
Victoria grinned broadly, "Oh, yes Greenland! That would give us plenty of time to discuss the finer points of Voltaire!"  
  
Sark laughed. How could you not love a woman who liked Voltaire? He sent Victoria a small smile, feeling slightly deflated now that his time with her was at an end. Sark turned toward the window, watching real life rapidly approach.  
  
Victoria leaned her head against the back of her chair as she felt the plane make its final decent. She blew out a small sigh and turned her head in Sark's direction, "It's been a pleasure making your acquaintance Gabriel Sark." Sark turned to face Victoria, their eyes locking, blue on blue, once again.  
  
He gave Victoria a small smile, one that barely lifted the corners of his mouth, "The pleasure, as they say, was all mine." Once again he held out his hand. As Sark took hold of Victoria's hand he fought back the urge to grab onto her and never let go. They both felt that spark again, that undeniable tingle of a mutual attraction. But they both knew that they'd never see each other again once they got off the plane. Things like this didn't function in real life. What was possible while trapped in a jet thousands of feet in the air will seem ridiculous the second their feet touched solid ground.  
  
Victoria relayed his thoughts with one sentence, "This, whatever it is, won't work, will it?"  
  
"I'm afraid not," Sark replied, still clinging on to Victoria's hand. They sat, frozen hand in hand, eyes locked, as their fellow passengers disembarked. Victoria offered Sark a smile after a hovering flight attendant snapped them out of their reverie. "That would be our cue to leave."  
  
Sark nodded shortly, rapidly becoming the man he was when he'd boarded the plane in New York. No more smiles and jokes, his life had taught him that they could be all too dangerous. They stood up at the same time, nose to nose and uncomfortably close. Victoria stepped back into the aisle, allowing Sark to reach up into the luggage compartment. He handed Victoria her carry-on, before reaching for his own bag. "Thanks Gabriel," Victoria quietly said. Sark nodded and then stepped back, gesturing for Victoria to leave first. "Ladies first."  
  
Victoria gave Sark a heart melting grin that nearly weakened his resolve to forget about her, "Such a gentleman." Sark chuckled as he followed Victoria off the plane.  
  
Once out in the terminal Sark and Victoria turned to face one another. "Thanks for making this flight bearable," Victoria said.  
  
Sark nodded and reached out for Victoria's hand again, "I do believe that was a first. Goodbye, Victoria."  
  
Victoria squeezed Sark's hand, "Goodbye, Gabriel."  
  
Sark glanced around the terminal, searching for the driver that would take him to the meeting with Irina. He spotted a tall, black clad man not far from him, shifting back and forth on his feet and playing with his sunglasses. Sark rolled his eyes, noting how conspicuous looking he was. "Must be new," Sark muttered to himself. Sark made his way over to the man, deciding then and there that he wasn't going to go with him. At least not right away.  
  
The man stood up and in a deep, rumbling German-accented voice asked, "Mr. Sark?"  
  
"That's right," Sark replied. "I take it you're my driver?"  
  
The man nodded.  
  
"Right, here's what we're going to do. You're going to go and sit down over there and practice how not to look like a criminal. I'm going to leave you to it and will be back shortly, okay? Oh, and if you leave me here, it will take them six months to find all your body parts. Understood?" Sark asked. Yes that made him feel better. Nothing like threatening bodily harm to make Sark feel like himself again.  
  
The man nodded with a bewildered look on his face. "But where are you going?" he asked.  
  
"Rule number one: Do not ask me questions." With that Sark walked off in the direction he has seen Victoria head. He just needed ten more minutes with her. Ten more minutes to convince himself that they couldn't be together. Of course he knew that already, he could never have anything that made him too happy, that was his way of life. But he told himself that he was allowed these last ten minutes so that he would never forget the happiness he could have had.  
  
He found Victoria struggling with an overstuffed suitcase near the baggage claim area. He smiled at the way she exasperatedly blew her bangs off of her forehead. She looked up from her great effort and met Sark's eye. "Damn thing weighs four hundred pounds," she said as she threw up her hands. Sark grinned at her and hefted the large bag onto a trolley. "Why thank you! I do so depend on the kindness of strangers," Victoria said in an overly coquettish manor.  
  
"So," she added, "and here we thought we'd never see each other again."  
  
Sark nodded, "Well I got to thinking. After that long flight I could use a drink and I thought that you might too."  
  
Victoria glanced down at her watch and then back up at Sark, "It's eleven in the morning."  
  
"Yes, I am aware of that," Sark responded. "I know it's a little early to have a brandy, but how about some coffee?"  
  
"I could go for a cup of coffee," she answered. "Or maybe twelve. Actually that brandy is sounding pretty good too. God I hate flying." "Ah come on," Sark teased, "the flight wasn't that bad."  
  
"No, no, you're right. In fact, it was better than most." Victoria smiled at Sark and they made their way over to one of the airport's small coffee shops.  
  
After ordering their coffees Sark and Victoria sat down at a table. "I get the feeling that you're not too thrilled to be in London," Sark said.  
  
Victoria shrugged. "I was pretty happy in New York and then out of the blue I was ordered to move to London. I might have been happier about it if I had actually been able to decide for myself."  
  
"Then why not say no?" Sark asked.  
  
Victoria smirked. "You don't know my father. No one says no to Christopher Logan."  
  
Sark regarded Victoria carefully, "Not even his own daughter."  
  
Victoria let out a rueful chuckle, "Especially his daughter."  
  
Sark could understand where she was coming from. He sensed that Victoria's relationship with her father was very similar to his and Irina's. Sure the woman had raised him since he was no more than a child, but their relationship was more business than anything else. "It is hard having someone so demanding as a parent," Sark said.  
  
Victoria nodded, looking uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going. She glanced down at her watch, noting the time with surprise. "I'm supposed to be meeting a business associate shortly. I should be going." She fiddled with her coffee cup and flashed Sark a sad smile.  
  
"Yes, of course," Sark responded. "As I said before, it's been a pleasure."  
  
Victoria pulled a business card out of her bag and handed it to Sark. "My cell phone number. Call me if you ever want to get together."  
  
Sark nodded, pocketing the small card. "I absolutely will do that."  
  
The both stood up, practically nose to nose once again. Sark wished he could grab on to her and never let go. But he knew he couldn't do that. There was no way that he would allow someone like Victoria to become tangled up with him. In his line of work it's too dangerous to care about someone. It's better to keep a distance, even if it meant Sark would be alone.  
  
"Goodbye Gabriel," Victoria said.  
  
Sark nodded his goodbye, hating that he had to watch another potential love walk out of his life. Sark watched as Victoria picked her way towards the door, stepping around other traveler's baggage. At the door she turned around and offered him a small wave, which melted Sark's resolve.  
  
Sark crossed to the door quickly and grabbed Victoria's hand, turning her back towards him. "I think we should say a proper goodbye, don't you?" he asked. She nodded slightly, tilting her head up to look in his eyes.  
  
"But what do you have in mind?" she asked sweetly.  
  
Sark smiled at Victoria and then their lips finally met. He pulled her to him as tightly as possible, wanting to remember the way she felt in his arms forever. They held on to each other for as long as possible, both never wanting that spark between them to end. Finally, they pulled apart. Sark reached out and touched Victoria's face, running his thumb down her cheekbone, memorizing her every feature.  
  
"Have a wonderful time in London, Victoria," he said.  
  
Victoria nodded, "You too." She leaned up and gave Sark a small peck on the cheek. "I'll be seeing you," she said. Sark nodded. She smiled at him one last time and then was gone, lost in the bustling crowd.  
  
Sark let out a resigned sigh and started on his way back towards his driver. He stopped at a trash can and reached into his pocket. Sark toyed with the card for a few seconds, feeling the smooth and slightly raised print. "It could never be," he muttered to himself. He decisively crumpled the card into a ball and held it in the palm of his hand, staring at it for a few seconds. He shook his head, attempting to snap himself out of whatever spell Victoria had put upon him.  
  
No matter what, no matter how they felt, no matter how many fireworks that kiss had set off between them, this would not work. It agonized Sark to have to do this, but he had no other choice. His was not a life that could include Victoria, no matter how happy she might have made him.  
  
Sark threw Victoria's business card into the trash and forced himself to leave it there.  
  
It could never be.  
  
~End~  
  
AN: Now as I said, I've been fiddling with this for ages, and I think that I could make a sequel out of it. Good idea or bad idea? Feedback, please! 


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